Unexpected Apology
by Morphimal
Summary: This is a very short one-shot meant to follow-up "What Was Missing". I hope you enjoy.


I've been staring at you all night. You're exhausted, clearly, and there's a vein pounding in your temple. This newest experiment seems to be very important, though I still haven't figured out what it is. You keep scribbling notes in between mixing and remixing vials of unidentifiable liquids. I should leave before the sun comes up- I left my hat back in my cave- but I can't stop watching you, wishing things were different. Wishing we had never fought. Damn. I don't want to think about this again. I turn to fly home through the remaining darkness when I hear you begin to hum, and I'm right back at the lab window to see you relax back into your chair. You close your eyes, slip off your glasses, and breathe out. Your left hand taps in rhythm on the desk, and you begin to sing softly.

"Marceline, this is my apology.

All this time I had believed you had just grown sick of me.

Marceline, I let my fear control my words

So reprimanding tirades were all you really ever heard.

I believed you always knew why I ranted over you.

My life is in my kingdom's eyes and what if they realize...

Marceline, you are the first thing in my heart.

I hold my people second now and this, my dear, tore me apart.

Honestly, you became my only home.

I've been so terribly alone since finding you had gone.

Thinking, I convinced myself you were too selfish to be helped.

Hearing how I made you feel, I wonder can we heal?

Marceline, I never wanted perfection.

I want you as you've always been, wrapped inside my arms again..."

I'm taken away by your voice, your words, so it takes me a moment to realize you've stopped. You lean forward with your eyes still closed, your hand tapping, stopping, tapping again. In s swift motion, you replace your glasses and pick up your pencil to scribble in your notes.

Then it clicks.

Those aren't notes at all. The mad writing you've been doing on and off all night is that song. A song to me. An apology. My eyes burn with tears, and I act on instinct.

"Oh!" Your surprised exclamation follows my flinging my arms around your shoulders. You turn your head to see me, and your eyes grow impossibly wide above cheeks glowing a deep red. "Marceline! My Gob, what are doing here? And how- How _long_ have you been here?"

I pull you up from your chair and plant my feet on the ground. I see uncertainty and fear in your face, but I have yet to find the words to respond. Wrapping my arms around your waist, I kiss you gently, holding back in wait for your reaction. Slowly you relax, and I feel your arms slide up my own as you join in the kiss fully. I could stay like this forever, but a niggling thought reminds me that you need to breathe.

When we part, your eyes betray your curiosity and desire for answers. You start to speak, and I cut you off because I know what you want to ask.

"I followed you home to see if you really wore my shirt, like you said. But instead of ever going to bed, you came to your lab and started an experiment. At least, that's what it looked like. Then you started to sing..."

"You weren't supposed to hear that yet," you huff, your pretty pink cheeks puffing out. "It's not finished." Chuckling, I pull you tight against me and lean in to whisper in your ear.

"Bonnibel, this is my apology

Pride kept me from saying that I thought you were too good for me.

Oh Bonnibel, let's leave the past the past,

Whatever problems we may have won't break this love that's meant to last."

Now we're both crying and smiling, and we lean in to kiss away the pain and fear and loss we have both suffered. I feel you begin to move towards the door and begin to float, lifting you with me to make our way to your room.

The sun has risen behind your closed curtains, and our clothes become one pile on the floor at the foot of your bed. We are crashing into each other, touching and exploring like we did the very first time, when the most absurd thought crosses my mind:

If you weren't taking notes on an experiment, then what were those liquids you kept messing with? Then I feel you whisper into my neck.

"I love you, Marceline."

"I love you, too, Bonnie."

And really, what else matters?


End file.
